Happy Endings
by TeenageWerewolf
Summary: 2nd Generation. Unknown narrator, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy. I can’t help but overhear sometimes. It’s natural. Actually, it’s a habit formed over years of intentionally listening in on the conversations of others. But now it’s just a habit. I swea


Disclaimer: It's all JKR's and the WB's and all that. No money is involved, though I really don't think that needs to be said. The title comes from a song by the All-American Rejects, though the content of the fic has nothing to do with the content of the song.

A/N: I wanted to post something for the New Year, so I wrote this. It's kind of...depressing. Yeah. It's depressing. But I like it. And I love the Rose/Scorpius pairing. My characterizations of them, however, lack meat. But it isn't really about them anyway, so they don't quite need meat (unless they're secretly thestrals...sorry, lame joke). The main character is most definitely the unknown narrator. I have no idea who he or she might be. An OC, I guess, or maybe one of the other kids mentioned in the epilogue. It doesn't matter though.

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I can't help but overhear sometimes. It's natural. Actually, it's a habit formed over years of intentionally listening in on the conversations of others. But now it's just a habit. I swear.

He was speaking quietly to her, whispering, almost, in her ear. She shook her head a lot, spoke with her body more than her voice. But when she did speak aloud it was impossible _not_ to hear, partially because she was speaking louder than him, partially because I'd scooted a little bit closer. The tears were silent though. He tried to keep his voice low, but it cracked and he had to speak louder, even to be heard by her, centimeters away from him.

"There's nothing I can _do_, Rose, nothing! Don't you believe me?" His voice was calm, but edgy. The deep breaths he was taking could only contain his emotions for so long. Soon he would be speaking an octave higher than usual, much higher than the voice of a well-developed teenage boy such as himself should sound.

"But I need you," she whimpered feebly, knowing there was nothing she could do. We all knew, we all saw the honesty in his eyes, the sorrow, the overwhelming grief. "Why now, Scorpius, why so suddenly?" She was looking down, away from the pain in the pools of his gray eyes, knowing it would hurt too much to meet them with her own chocolate pair.

"It's the new year. They want a new life for me. They think it will inspire me more, the start of the calendar coinciding with the beginning of something new…and the end of my life." His tone was overwhelmingly sardonic, characterized more so by the way he rolled his eyes, but she wasn't looked at him, and over her emotions she didn't catch the mocking in his voice and gasped, whipping her head up to look at his face. "My life _here_," he corrected quickly when he saw the terror in her features, the clammy whiteness of her usually scarlet cheeks.

"But why do you have to leave in the first place?" The usually untamable curly auburn locks that framed her face lay limp, defeated, a symbol of her helplessness.

"Rose, we've discussed this before. Why are you making this so much more difficult? Couldn't you just hate me like a girlfriend should when her boyfriend is moving out of the country?" He didn't mean what he said, I could tell by the waver in his voice, the way he looked up as he spoke, trying to contain the tears. He couldn't bear the thought of her being angry with him for any reason, especially something so uncontrollable as the desire and command of his parents.

I turned away then, not wanting to hear the depressing end of this grim tale, deciding I'd write my own ending, another habit of mine. It was easier than the truth, writing a happy ending after witnessing snippets of the lives of others.

In reality, the New Year wouldn't be happy for these two. As the clock stroke midnight they would say their goodbyes with a final, half-hearted kiss. His father would grab hold of his limp, defeated, grief-stricken arm and she would watch him leave. He wouldn't look back, knowing it would hurt too much to see her face. And she wouldn't look away, determined to keep a picture of him somewhere in her mind forever, even if it was the back of his head, his white-blond hair sleek with cold rainwater as his figure traveled further and further away into the darkness outside the castle.

But in my mind they spent the end of this year and the beginning of the next and a hundred thousand more together, holding hands, in love. They traveled around the world, fed each other exotic foods while gazing up at the stars on the beach. She was wrapped in his embrace, not to keep warm (for the air never grew very cold wherever they were), but just to be as close as possible, all the time. They had beautiful children whom they loved unconditionally and who grew up to fall in love with others just as their glorious parents had. It was the textbook happy ending, complete with the "ever after" and big bold "The End" to top it all off.

It might be dangerous, living this way, ignoring the gloominess of reality. But then again, all this practice in writing happy endings for others might help suppress any unhappy ones that come my way. Maybe it already has. All I know for sure is that it is a new year, a new set of happy beginnings and a new set of happy endings. There would be no grim surprises, not for me.

The End


End file.
